


Ribbons of Fate

by junko



Series: Chasing Demons [49]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:09:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renji chaffs under Byakuya's order not to talk to the Second; will he do something stupid to assuage his guilt?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ribbons of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Warning--if you have ever received notice of the death of a family member by military or police personnel this could trigger.
> 
> Also, the usual thanks to my most awesome beta reader, Josey (cestus)!

“Is being out of district truly your brother’s only crime?” Byakuya asked Renji.

Renji had been divvying up breakfast between the three of them. He’d just finished putting a bit of baked salmon on Rukia’s plate and had begun to help himself. He snorted a little laugh at Byakuya’s question, “Well… that’s the only thing they caught him at, know what I mean?”

He couldn’t help but exchange another look with Rukia. They both probably deserved serious prison time for all the things they’d stolen and pockets picked. But, Inuzuri itself was fairly lawless. What you watched out for wasn’t the authorities-- because there weren’t any. What you tried to avoid were the bigger bosses, the people that would steal the stuff you stole. 

Everyone in Inuzuri always agreed that shinigami were much scarier than the yakuza. People fainted in their presence. Not only that, but they could they kill you with their magic and their demon swords and you’d never even see ‘em coming with speed that made them invisible.

Shinigami were the stuff of nightmares. Boogie men.

Plus, if you ever really met one, you were screwed. Shinigami were the law, and thus were much less reasonable than your average gangster. A smart player could sweet talk a mobster into lessening whatever penalty you faced. But you couldn’t argue with shinigami. Their power was absolute. They disappeared people—sent them off to the pillory or to the sekiseki mines or fate knew where else. No one ever came back to tell the tale.

You just didn’t fuck with the shinigami.

Renji had no shame in admitting that had been part of the appeal of signing on. Rukia had always been the one with stars in her eyes, going on about heroic deeds and epic battles and justice and honor. Renji just wanted out from under--a chance to be the boot rather than the heel.

At least, at first. 

In Academy it became about gaining Zabimaru and proving himself worthy of his zanpakutō, the rank, and the uniform. Heh. He guessed he wasn’t entirely over that. He still wanted to be the best, the strongest, and to make Zabimaru proud.

That’s why this business with Seichi sucked so much. He hadn’t thought about shinigami as the bad guys since…

…since, fuck, last week.

Was that all really only a matter of weeks ago? Damn.

Renji glanced at Rukia again. When it seemed like Central was willing to throw Rukia’s life away for something minor, he remembered what side he was on at the end of the day--and it wasn’t the law. He’d decided she was more important than his pride or any distance he’d come up. The shinigami and their stupid, strict laws could go fuck themselves… and that had included Byakuya.

 _Especially Byakuya_.

Renji turned his gaze to the captain. Byakuya was dressed in full uniform and haori, but without the kenseikan or the scarf, there was a strange image of ‘lover’ superimposed over ‘captain.’ Byakuya hadn’t helped matters with all the orders and the not-orders. Especially since the message was the same: ‘sit down and shut up.’ 

Come to heel, Renji. Be a good boy.

Renji rubbed his head.

He took a deep breath and tried to quell the jumble of emotions roiling around in his head. He was exhausted and gutted that Fujimoto had been murdered on account of stupid-ass Rukongai politics. He was angry at Seichi for being such a fuck-up and being idiotic enough to get caught again. He particularly hated how Seichi had somehow brought up all the old bitterness, the sense of injustice, and shame that made Renji want to snap and bite at Byakuya’s every jerk of the chain. It ticked Renji off how conflicted and twisted he felt in his guts. If Byakuya would just let him go and talk to the Second himself, he could at least feel like he was doing the right thing. But now with that order around his neck, being a good soldier meant being muzzled and held tightly to Byakuya’s side.

Fuck it all.

Byakuya’s fingers touched his knee, and Renji realized that he’d been cradling his head in his hands, his elbows digging sharply into his thighs. “Renji, are you all right?”

“Not really,” he admitted.

“You need sleep,” Byakuya insisted.

“Probably,” Renji agreed. He glanced at Rukia who was giving him her worried look. He mustered up a wan smile for her. Taking in a deep breath, he shook himself out. “But, even if go back to quarters, I ain’t going to get any kip. I’ll just end up staring at the wall.”

Byakuya nodded as though in understanding. “If I can’t convince you to sleep, you should at least have more tea,” he said, filling up Renji’s bowl. 

Rukia, meanwhile, set some egg sauce covered rice on Renji’s plate.

“Thanks,” he said to them both, a little surprised by the gestures. He’d forgotten that, here, in the office, he outranked Rukia. She was in uniform, so she was a junior officer from another Division. Renji had been operating on the rules of the estate, serving both Kuchiki first.

Of course, Byakuya always poured the tea, and had done so for a long time, and, frankly, that was confusing as all fuck. 

Still. If anyone wanted damning evidence of their relationship, they’d just have to watch the two of them eating. The moment Byakuya Kuchiki, twenty-eighth clan head, lifted the tea pot and poured for Renji it would be clear as a bell. Ironically, anyone watching would assume Renji was getting serious privileges in the bedroom, too. Pouring the tea was the deferential gesture of a wife to a husband, a subordinate to a commander.

Why Byakuya continued to do it when things were never like that between them, Renji didn’t know. 

Goddamn it, Renji’s head hurt.

“I have a question for the both of you,” Byakuya said, setting the teapot down. “The arrival of this other Abarai has made me curious about the timing of your… family structure. I guess I always imagined you two together from the start. I’ve never heard how you met.”

Awkward. 

Did Renji say: ‘oh, you know, Rukia saved my gang from getting caught boosting water by beating the shit out of the shopkeeper we’d robbed? Yeah, I met her when she aided and abetted my crimes and thought, “Hey, she could help us steal even more stuff!”’?

Rukia was looking back at Renji with a similar kind of ‘help me out here!’ look. 

“Ah, Rukia bullied her way into our hearts, didn’t you, girl?” Renji reached over and tousled Rukia’s hair.

She smacked his hand playfully, and shot back, “Saved your butt more like.”

“Yeah, there was that. You were always doing that,” Renji admitted with a fond smile, his shoulders relaxing a little at the memories and the bright look in Rukia’s big purple eyes. Byakuya might be the older brother now, but Renji could still take care of her. “We were a good team back then.” 

She smiled and nodded.

Renji offered some fukujinzuke—crunchy pickled eggplant, radish and cucumber--to Byakuya before taking a little more for himself. “But, yeah, no,” Renji said. “Rukia came into my life not too much before we headed off to Academy. I don’t know when that was exactly, though. Time is always fuzzy out in the Rukongai, but, what?” He looked to Rukia to confirm, “A decade? Two?”

Rukia frowned, her face crumpling up to think about it. Finally with a shake of her head and a shrug, she said, “I think so. It’s hard to remember exactly.”

Byakuya nodded at them both. He moved some rice around his plate a moment, as though considering something. “Renji, just how long did you live in Inuzuri before Academy?”

“Like I said, I don’t really know,” Renji said, flinging back some hair that had fallen out of his braid to hang in front of his face. “I’m never really clear on how old I am. Let’s see, fifty or sixty odd years in the Guard, then years at Academy…. Hmmm, a hundred years maybe, plus a decade or two? Why?”

Byakuya was staring at his plate like it was something he’d never seen before. A quick glance at Rukia seemed full of something like profound embarrassment, except that Renji had never seen this look on Byakuya’s face before so he couldn’t be certain. Very quietly, Byakuya said, “You both must have been terribly hungry for a long time.”

This was just now occurring to him? 

No, this was just now _shaming_ him.

Rukia looked helpless again, but Renji shook his head. He had nothing here. If she wanted to soothe her brother’s sudden pang of failed noblesse oblige that was her look out. 

Byakuya wanted him muzzled? Well, now was a good time to practice keeping his mouth shut. Because gods only knew what would come spewing out if he opened it. Renji found a spot on the breakfast tray, a whirl in the wood’s grain, and stared.

Rukia was saying something—babbling on and on about how there was nothing anyone could do for all the lost souls in the Rukongai and how it was not one person’s responsibility and that Byakuya shouldn’t let such a little thing bother him and all the platitudes and the bullshit and the lies. 

Renji counted the spirals and tried to remember to breathe.

But, he could feel Byakuya’s stare, like something hot and sharp, boring into his skull. Renji knew should say something or his silence would damn him just as equally.

When Rukia wound down, Renji said, “You asked me before if I knew what Seichi’s revolution was about. I think you have your answer.”

“I was always told,” Byakuya said, his voice measured and soft, “That the majority of the souls in the Rukongai felt no hunger.”

“Yeah, well, you were lied to,” Renji said, keeping his eyes locked on the table.

“Renji!” Rukia’s voice was horrified and full of warning.

Right. Mouth shut. What good did it do anyway? Rukia did have a point. Even if Byakuya suddenly felt compelled to sell off the Kuchiki fortune to feed the starving, he could never care for them all, forever. There were too many. 

“Your brother,” Byakuya asked carefully, “has significant spiritual pressure?”

Renji looked up then. “It’s hard to know. He might have. It could be gone by now. You can starve it out. I nearly had. We ate better once Rukia joined us and by the time we left for Academy I’d grown about a foot and I could hear my Zabimaru calling for me again.”

 _Again_? Yeah, that was right.

 _Yes_ , Zabimaru hissed. _We were together before time and will be until the end of days_.

Now that Renji’s eyes were up, Byakuya’s were down. 

Rukia clearly didn’t like this tension. She kept looking back and forth between Renji and Byakuya, her eyes quivering. “Nii-sama, what is this about? Why are you talking about revolution, Renji?”

Renji started to answer, but then remembered the gag order.

“Something Renji’s brother said while in our custody,” Byakuya answered. “It’s nothing to concern yourself over, Rukia. The Second Division will be in charge of an investigation into the matter. I must admit I’m… disturbed by what I’ve learned, however. It may be worth following up on my own.”

The captain had spoken. Discussion closed. 

Renji picked up the chopsticks he’d laid in their holder and said, “So how about that Soccer Tournament, huh? You joining the Women’s Association Team, Rukia, or going with your Division?”

They talked nonsense while they finished breakfast. Finally, Renji found an opportunity to make his excuses. “I suppose I really ought to try to sleep,” he said. “I’m officially back on duty this afternoon.”

Rukia said congratulations and they all stood up and headed to the door. But, before Renji could slip away, Byakuya said, “Just another moment of your time, Lieutenant.”

Rukia bowed and left them.

“Sir?”

“Rukia,” Byakuya said, keeping his voice low as he watched her walk away under the portico. “Does she know any hand cant?”

She knew ‘run’ and ‘hide;’ Renji had taught her those himself. But, he shook his head, “Not a word.”

Byakuya seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding. “It matters less. She’s a Kuchiki now.” 

Yeah, okay, thanks for the reminder, Taicho. Renji pinched the space between his eyes. “Is that all, sir?”

Byakuya seemed unusually hesitant. It was almost as if he wanted to reach out, but they were standing in full view of the practice yard. Renji had never seen this look either; it was as though Byakuya couldn’t find the words he wanted to express something. Finally, Byakuya seemed to give up the struggle with a little sigh. “No,” he said. “Get some rest. Take care of yourself.”

#

Despite himself, Renji must have eventually fallen asleep because he woke up hot and sweaty. His mouth was dry and pasty, like he was hungover. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he pulled his hair from the braid and tied it back in its customary topknot. He hunted around for a bandana and put that into place too. He’d fallen asleep in his uniform, but he was running late so he just shook out the wrinkles. Grabbing Zabimaru, he headed down to the office.

The Third could hardly contain his glee at being officially relieved of the title Acting Lieutenant. Renji helped him celebrate by ordering him to go fetch a strong pot of tea from the mess.

Then the two of them spent a good portion of the rest of the day catching Renji up to speed on all the Division business. The day was nearly winding down when Renji thought to ask, “Has anyone notified Fujimoto’s family?”

“Uh, I was just finishing the letter, sir.”

“Perfect,” Renji said. Pushing away from the desk, he stood up. His back was sore from having sat in one position for so long, “And the death benefits packet? Everything’s all together?”

“Yes, the captain delivered the promotion papers himself this morning, while you were asleep, so it’s all ready.”

“Give it to me.”

“Sir?”

Renji held his hand out and leveled a serious stare at the Third. “Kinjo make it back from the Second all right?”

“Uh, yes, sir. He’s been back for hours. But—“

“Great, he’s coming with me.”

“With you…?” The Third looked horrified. “You’re not seriously thinking about going into the Rukongai after last night?”

He was. This was exactly what he needed to do. If Byakuya wouldn’t let him make things right with the Second, the least he could do was deliver the news to Fujimoto’s family himself. It was his duty, after all. No one could fault him for this. She was high enough rank to merit his presence. 

“I am,” he told the twittering Third Seat. “I think, in fact, it’s important that we personally offer our respect and condolences. We need to make it clear that we honor our own no matter where they came from.”

#

Kinjo seemed a little shocked and a little suspicious when Renji strode onto the practice yard and simply shouted, “With me, Seventh Seat. Now.”

But, there was no hesitation as he hopped to, “Sir?”

“We’re delivering the news to Fujimoto’s family. You’ve got ten minutes to get into dress uniform. I need you to be ready to answer any questions they might have about what happened last night. You know enough not to get too detailed? To make her look good? This ain’t like making a report, you understand me? You’ll think about how it sounds to a civilian.”

The blood drained from Kinjo’s weathered face. His perpetually scratchy voice sounded uncertain. “Talk to her family? But, I… wouldn’t know what to say…. I’ve never done anything like this.”

Renji put a hand on Kinjo’s shoulder. “With any luck, you never will again. Don’t worry. I’ll deliver the news. You only need to stand beside me unless they want to know something I don’t have an answer to. It’ll be okay. Most people don’t want details. Besides, I need someone strong with me who knows the warning signs of an ambush. Even though we’re only going to West Second District, I’d rather we all buddy up from now on, you know?”

#

Renji hated leaving the Seireitei. Even though the Eleventh Division regularly terrorized the izakaya and the tattoo artists of the North First, Renji always had to suppress a shudder when he felt himself pass over the kidō barrier into the Rukongai. 

Kinjo spat on the ground. At Renji’s look, he shrugged, “It’s a ritual. I swore I’d never go back. Ever.”

Renji nodded, understanding the sentiment exactly. Patting Zabimaru, he told Kinjo what he always told himself, “These are our ‘hall passes.’ Jidanbō has to let us back in.”

Kinjo snorted a little laugh. “Hall pass? What, are you still at Academy?”

“Shut up, will you?” Renji snapped playfully. But, despite himself, he glanced over his shoulder before stepping into shunpō.

#

Not surprisingly, the sudden appearance of two armed shinigami in full dress uniform—one with a lieutenant’s armband, no less—caused quite the stir. Even though Renji tried to minimize the shock by having them step out of shunpō a half mile from the district proper, it was clear they were anticipated. As they walked along the dusty road that was little more than a mound of dirt between rice paddies, a gaggle of small children rushed them almost immediately. The children squealed in excitement and simultaneously begged for handouts.

“You know that _officially_ we got nothing to give you,” Renji chided them with a smile. But he dug into the pocket of his hakama until he came up with a handful of kaki no tane, soy-flavored rice crackers, that he’d pilfered from the mess. “But the first one of yous willing to show us to the Fujimoto household gets these.”

A little girl, no bigger than Yachiru but with a wild mane of jet black curls, snatched the food expertly from Renji’s outstretched hand. “I know the Fujimoto girls! I’ll take you!”

The other children groaned in disappointment. Renji was pleased to note that, though their guide instantly stuck the lion’s share of her bounty into her mouth, she held out the rest to share. There was squabbling, but nearly everyone got something. But this was a fairly affluent district, as such things went. The air smelled of growing things and industry.

The majority of the kids, having gotten what they came for, ran off ahead to return to their games or chores. A few trailed along at a distance, watching with wide, bright eyes. Their guide led them through the narrow streets, past rows and rows of stores and vendors. When they strode past a busy red lantern tavern the conversation of those seated outside under the porch hushed. One of the adults, an older man with short cut silver hair, stood up and shouted out, “Where you taking them, girl?”

“Fujimoto’s!”

People in the bar exchanged looks, but no one made any other protest. The silver haired man shrugged and sat back down. But even so, Kinjo seemed very alert and kept watch for any kind of trail. Renji, too, let his hand fall to Zabimaru and kept his guard up. Finally, the mop-headed girl stopped in front of a doorway in the middle of a machiya with a shuttered wooden lattice front with a woven pattern that indicated it was a rice shop. The mop-topped girl pounded on the door and shouted, “Tai! Eri! You have company!”

She glanced up at Renji like she was expecting a final payment.

“Scram,” he told her, turning out his pockets as evidence. “I’m tapped out.”

She threw out her bottom lip and gave him the dirtiest look. Before running off, she muttered, “Cheapskate.”

“That’s what happens when you give them stuff, sir,” Kinjo muttered. “The little shits always expect more.”

Renji grunted. He knew it was against policy, but given what he now knew he’d rather have some people in the Rukongai who thought of shinigami as benefactors, even if it was in this small way. 

Kinjo turned to keep watch on their backs as they waited for an answer. Finally, Renji heard movement in the shop. There was scrabbling for locks and latches and then the door slid open cautiously. A young woman with bright blond hair cut in a kind of pixie cut poked her head out. “The shop is closed. Come back tomorrow during business hours.”

“Ma’am?” Renji said, getting his hand into the door before she slammed it on him. “Are you a relative of Chiyo Fujimoto?”

She eyed Renji suspiciously. She gave his knuckles on the jam a particularly hard stare, as though considering just how hard she’d have to bang the door on them to make him let go. “I’m her sister, why?”

“I’m afraid I have some bad news. It’s about your sister. Chiyo died last night in an ambush while on patrol in West Twenty-Second. Can we come in, ma’am?”

All the blood drained from the woman’s face until it nearly matched the pale color of her hair. For a long moment, she stood there, her knuckles whitening where they gripped the door, completely silent, and her mouth hanging open. Then, her eyes hardened. She slammed the door, hard against Renji’s hand. “No!” she shouted, her voice raw with grief. “Go away! I don’t want to know!”

Despite the pain and her repeated slams, Renji held his grip on the door. “Ma’am, I’m sorry but we can’t go. There are some things we need to give you. She left your family a large pension and I need to explain how you can collect it. I’m also required to hand over the _tsuka ito_ and obligated make sure that you’re not on your own--that you have someone with you, or someone you can go to.”

“Fuck off!” she screamed, slamming the door again and again on to Renji’s bruising knuckles. “I never wanted her to go to that stupid Academy of yours! I told her it would end like this!”

There was another voice from the hall behind, “Eri! What the hell is going on!?”

“They’re saying Chi-chan’s dead!” She said, her anger finally melting into sobs. She let go of the door and turned toward the interior, leaving the door mostly closed on Renji’s hand. They could still hear her moaning, “Tai, tell me it’s not true! Tell me it’s a lie! Not our baby sister! Please god, not my darling Chi-chi!”

Renji held onto the jam but bowed his head. This never got any easier. 

Beside him, Kinjo whispered a desperate: “Fuck.”

#

The other sister, Tai, took things a little better. As Renji introduced himself and Kinjo, tears streamed down her face in a constant drip, but she was able to invite them inside. There was something about her that reminded Renji a little of Captain Unohana—maybe it was the attempt at a soft, sad smile or the thick dark braid of that fell over one shoulder nearly to her waist.

She was a little more together, but she did not, however, indicate that they could sit, nor did she show them past the front shop. Typical of these townhouses, the space was much deeper than it was wide. The blonde pixie haired sister, Eri, had raged off to some far back part, past the shoji screens into their living area. Renji could hear her strangled sobs and banging fists echoing against the earthen walls.

From the inside of his kosode, Renji produced the letter and the packet that the Third had prepared. On top of the packet, he placed the symbolic cutting of the _tsuka ito_ , the decorative ribbon from the hilt of Fujimoto’s zanpakutō.

Renji held it out to her. Her eyes focused on the white and purple ribbon. Her expression grew wide with a kind of horror and she shook her head, so Renji moved aside a scale to set the packet on one of the nearby counters of the shop. 

“Do you read?” he asked her as he smoothed out the threads of the _tsuka ito_. When she nodded mutely, he said, “Good. Most of what you need to know is in there. Will you want her body returned to a family plot?”

“We… we don’t have one,” Tai said through her tears.

Renji nodded. “Fujimoto was a seated officer, our Eleventh, in fact. She can be given an honor burial at full cost to the Division. You and your sister can be issued passes to the ceremony. You’ll have to provide your own transport, but—“

The door slid open with a bang. Kinjo spun around, automatically drawing his zanpakutō. A young man with long straight brown hair stood panting at the threshold. “You!” he shouted at them, hardly seeming to care that Kinjo was two steps from slicing his throat. “Get away from her! If you’ve touched her, I swear to god I’ll kill you with my bare hands!” His eyes frantically searched the scene, “Fuck! Where’s Eri?!”

Touched her? What the hell…? But Renji could see that the kid’s anger was ramping Kinjo up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” He shouted, even as he let his fingers rest on Zabimaru, “Everybody calm down! We’re not here to hurt anybody. Kinjo, lower that weapon right now!”

Renji looked to Tai for assistance, but her tears seemed to have stopped her ability to speak. Renji could see how this might look bad, and Kinjo’s snarl wasn’t helping much. “Ma’am?” he said to her pleadingly, “Tell him.”

If she didn’t, he and Kinjo were going to have the whole district on their ass.

A few tense heartbeats passed, until Tai finally blurted, “I’m okay. Eri’s okay. But... but Chiyo’s dead! They… came to deliver the news.”

Then, as if that had taken all her strength, she collapsed onto her knees. Despite the danger of Kinjo’s naked steel, the young man rushed past them to her side. Crouching beside her, he pulled her tight. She collapsed against his shoulder, heaving great sobs, as he continued to glare at them. 

“Get out of here!” the boy shouted at Renji. “Can’t you see you’ve done enough?”

Renji had to agree. But, he had to confirm what he thought he just heard. “I got to ask you something, kid. Why’d you run all the way here? What did you think you were going to find?”

His eyes slid away and his face tightened. “There are rumors.”

“Yeah,” Renji pressed, “And what are those?”

He gripped Tai’s head possessively. “That women aren’t safe from you lot.”

Shit.

Double-fucking shit.

“That better goddamn be a rumor and not true,” Renji growled mostly to himself. He gave Kinjo the nod that they should go. “Ma’am, just one more thing: you only need to send word of your decision about burial to the West Gate. If we don’t hear from you in four days, she’ll be interred with us. No matter what, I’ll make sure she gets taken good care of.”

Surprisingly, Tai managed a, “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Renji nodded a little bow, “My sincerest condolences, ma’am.” To Kinjo, Renji said, “The second that door opens, you jump right into shunpō, you hear me? If they think we’re here on business like that—"

But Kinjo was already at the front, near the door, pulling down a slat of the shutters to peer out into the street. He still had his zanpakutō drawn, though he held it down at his side. “It looks clear from what I can see.”

“Right. Let’s get out of here while we still can,” Renji said. “I need a drink.”

**Author's Note:**

> Josey (cestus) and I had a long discussion about what happens to zanpakuto after their owner dies. Canon is conflicted as far as I can tell. I feel like it's stated that they die when their weilder dies, but we see Tousen steal his from a dead shinigami. To avoid spoilers to the current arc, I will say that we later also see SOMEONE removing a zanpakuto (an ausachi/soulless blade, we're told) from a corpse, so we know that can happen and that the blade can then remain with that person and awaken. Thus, it kind of seems like the official answer is: that depends....
> 
> So... what I decided is this: all zanpakuto that have been named eventually fade at death. The speed of the disappearance of the zanpakuto is dependant on whether or not its weilder died in battle and how much reishi was expended in the fight (or by the time the shinigami dies). Possibly, too, the closeness of the two souls makes a difference, ie someone who has achieved bankai or is a million years old might have their zanpakuto instantly evaporate. So, in this particular case, Fujimoto's zanpakuto will fade in time. And, because it seems be dangerous to bury a zanpakuto anywhere outside of the walls of the Seireitei--since that would mean certain TYPES OF PEOPLE (see above) could easily get their hands on the blade--it's become customary to offer a symbolic cutting of the threads/ribbons that wrap the hilt to a bereaved family member. 
> 
> Josey and I discussed Tousen's exception and came up with an interesting theory. I won't share it now because it might work itself into some other fic at another time. But, all I'll say is that with every rule there's an exception, especially when the will is strong.
> 
> Also, though it's not stated here because I couldn't find a way to sneak this information in--I'm pretty sure Renji and all the other lieutenants were trained in how to deliever the news by Kira, who learned how to do it during his tenure in the Fourth. I imagine Kira as the sort of person who would take those boring lieutenant's gatherings (when they're waiting on the captains to finish _their_ meeting) to give out instruction like this and otherwise try to prompt people to exchange vital information about how to do their jobs better.


End file.
